


Assigning Blame

by V (deepsix)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-03
Updated: 2003-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-04 19:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepsix/pseuds/V
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Potions accident makes Remus and Sirius temporarily allergic to each other. Wackiness ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assigning Blame

Remus didn't typically miss him much when James was conspicuously absent, even if it was because James was spending yet another afternoon in the hospital wing with a cracked skull, or fractured rib, or whatever it was this time. It wasn't that Remus liked it when it happened, because he didn't, because it was really quite difficult to wish James any specific harm. It was just--

It was a relief, sometimes, to have James out of the way.

But that didn't mean that James's presence wouldn't have been a marked improvement over the current situation, in which Peter was inflicting his partnership on Remus again, out of sheer terror that he might get stuck with one of the Slytherins. And it wasn't that Remus didn't like Peter, either, because he did, because Peter had a way of worming himself into the situation, so that you couldn't help but like him.

But he was so _useless_.

Professor Tourmente (aptly named, as the saying went) had told them, at the beginning of class, that their Toxin Repellent potions would be a pale, shiny indigo colour if prepared correctly. Remus knew this, because he had written "pale shiny ind." at the top of his page, right under an arithmantic equation involving the addition of Sirius's initials to Remus's own, and above the name of the potion itself.

Maybe not the best combination for note taking, but it got the point across.

He also knew it because Snape's potion was a pale, shiny indigo colour, and Lily Evans's potion was a pale, shiny indigo colour, and even Sirius, who had gotten stuck with one of the Slytherins instead of Peter-- even _his_ was a pale, shiny indigo colour.

But when Remus looked at his and Peter's, he did not see a pale, shiny indigo colour, even if he squinted and turned his head to the side. There was nothing remotely pale or shiny about it, and it certainly wasn't indigo.

So Peter hadn't _kind of_ screwed up, Remus decided. No, Peter had fucked it up beyond all possible recognition, and the chances were, he hadn't even been reading the right procedure.

Remus then broke all lab safety rules of conduct, and sat down at their table, and put his head in his hands. There was, he thought, a good chance he was going to fail this portion of the course, and it was going to be _all Peter's fault_. He wondered how difficult it would be to get Peter in the infirmary alongside James.

He didn't get to consider the possibility very long.

"Lupin!" Tourmente called abruptly. She had a very high, shrill voice, and it was right in Remus's ear. "And Pettigrew," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"Yes, Professor," Remus said wearily, and stood up. Tourmente was glaring at him through her half-spectacles, with a look of severe distaste on her face.

"What," she said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of Peter's cauldron full of-- something. "What is this supposed to be, exactly?"

"Er," said Remus, at a loss. "You might want to ask Peter."

Tourmente's pencilled-in eyebrows rose. "But I'm asking you, Lupin," she said, and Remus thought that yes, unfortunately, that was rather obvious.

He said, "Well, it's supposed to be a Toxin Repellent potion."

"Supposed to be, yes," said Tourmente shrilly. She tapped the lip of the cauldron gently with her wand, and a series of blue sparks shot out of it. Remus edged away from it nervously, and glanced at Peter.

Peter looked like he would rather be anywhere but where he was, and Remus didn't particularly blame him. Yet.

"But what it _actually_ is," Tourmente went on, still looking rather intently at Remus, "is something else entirely."

"It's--" Remus started, but ended up quite unable to say what it was. It was thin and watery, yes, and kind of yellow, and there was some kind of black precipitate forming at the bottom of the cauldron, but none of those were really identifying factors of anything except a disgusting mess. Possibly the contents of someone's bladder.

Remus shuddered.

"I think I did it wrong," Peter said helpfully.

Tourmente ignored him.

"Lupin," she said acidly, "I never before thought you actually incompetent, but it appears you have once again proven me wrong. This time, I'm not so sure it's something to be proud of." Remus stared blankly at the tabletop. "Both you and Mr. Pettigrew will receive a mark of zero," she continued, which he'd rather expected, "but I will give you a chance to make it up."

Remus looked up jerkily. Tourmente wasn't a dislikeable teacher, really, but she could be quite unreasonable if she put her mind to it. And this was-- reasonable, almost.

"Yes?" he asked eagerly, but Peter looked distraught at the thought of even more Potions homework.

"Oh yes," said Tourmente. "As you both seem quite prepared to make a meal of my lessons, perhaps you should take that literally."

Remus trained his blankest expression on her, which was not particularly difficult at the moment, and waited.

"You'll take a vial of this potion of yours, so you can test and identify it. Then you will write ten inches on its properties and uses. Next class," said Tourmente. She smiled rather patronizingly at them. "Is that clear?"

Remus looked at Peter. Peter looked at Remus. Then they looked at the contents of the cauldron, and looked perfectly horrified.

"Yes," squeaked Peter. Remus merely nodded, and was fairly certain this never would have happened if he'd paired with Sirius the way he usually did.

Sometimes he really, _really_ missed James.

* * *

"I'll do it," Peter said at last. After class, he and Remus had spent a good ten minutes sitting in the common room eyeing their potion in disgusted silence. Ten minutes later, it did not look any more appealing.

Remus made a face. "No, I'll do it," he said.

"Oh, good," said Peter quickly. Clearly, if Remus had been expecting Peter to argue in order to save face, he would have been wrong.

It was a good thing, then, that it had never even occurred to Remus.

"But you have to, um. Observe the effects," he said. "Or something. Or put me out of my misery if it does something really bad."

Peter looked concerned. "Are you sure?"

"Well, you can't get away without doing _anything_\--"

"I meant, if it does something really bad," said Peter. "It won't, will it?"

Remus opened his mouth to answer, but was struck by the sheer idiocy of the question. It took him an additional five seconds before he finally asked, "If I knew that, would we be doing this?"

Peter nodded, and then shook his head furiously. Remus looked at him, and twisted the stopper out of the vial.

He was probably going to regret this.

* * *

Not long after, Sirius found him dry-heaving in the boys' toilet across from their dorm room.

"I hate Peter," Remus said hoarsely. He was rocking back and forth on his knees, with his elbows propping him up against the toilet seat, and his eyes clenched tightly shut. "I hate Peter," he said again. "I hate Peter, I hate Peter, I hate--"

He stopped, and continued not to throw up.

"There, there," Sirius said, not at all comforting. He was crammed into the stall next to Remus, cautiously patting his back, as if Remus might vomit all over him if he wasn't careful.

The potion itself hadn't been anywhere near as bad as Remus had been expecting, and mostly just tasted like burned caraway seeds, even if it was still slightly warm and reminded him very strongly of piss. And the first few minutes after he'd swallowed it had actually been fine, insofar that he didn't pass out or fall in love with Peter, or something else equally horrible.

The initial fine-ness of the situation didn't last very long.

And as expected, Peter was of no help whatsoever when Remus was hit with the overwhelming urge to throw up, and the complete inability to actually do so.

"I _really_ hate Peter," Remus said again, and just as he made to not-puke again, he discovered that he didn't need to anymore.

"Well," said Sirius pleasantly, his hand still on Remus's back, "that's what you get for pairing with Peter."

Remus twisted around to look at Sirius. "Yes, because that's _exactly_ what I wanted," he said.

And then he sneezed, and it was only Sirius's quick reflexes that stopped him from getting it full in the face, and that resulted in Remus getting elbowed in the nose.

"Oh my god," said Remus, horrified. "I'm going to _kill_ Peter."

* * *

"What's wrong with you?" James asked. He'd shown up during dinner with a broad white bandage wrapped around his head and Spell-o-taped in place, but it seemed more decorative than useful. He didn't look too ill. "Sirius says you've either gone crazy or sick, or both."

"Sirius would," said Remus darkly. Sirius put on the face of hurt across the table, but it was as unconvincing as always.

In Remus's experience, things had a habit of going from bad to worse, and from worse to unspeakably awful, and this was no different. Once the sneezing had set in, there was no stopping it, except for the fluke five-minute stretches when he actually felt not all that bad.

But then his eyes had started watering, too. And his back was itchy. And he couldn't really breathe all that well.

Sirius hadn't left his side the whole time, either, claiming it to be entirely his fault that Remus was in such a condition. Remus was pretty sure it was only for the attention, because if it was anyone's fault, it was Peter's. Though it also might have even been James's.

At any rate, it definitely wasn't Sirius's.

"I never should have left you alone with Peter," said Sirius dramatically, as if Peter's incompetence might be catching.

"Not to put too fine a point on it," said Remus miserably. Peter didn't even try to argue.

"So?" James asked.

"Oh," said Remus. "We had this absolutely delightful Potions class this afternoon." James looked at him quizzically. "Peter," Remus went on, "just put the wrong ingredient or six into the cauldron."

"And Tourmente made Moony _drink_ it," said Sirius breathlessly. Remus couldn't decide if this was out of horror for his predicament, or out of sheer amazement that someone had gotten an even shorter end of the stick than Sirius himself had in Potions.

"I'm sorry," Peter said uselessly.

"You usually are," said Sirius nastily.

James was still looking at them.

"It made me sick," Remus finished. "It was-- really disgusting." As if to prove his point, he sneezed hugely, and only just managed to cover his mouth in time.

"Wow," James said at last. "It's not contagious, is it?"

Remus and Peter exchanged a look; Peter looked terrified. Then Remus and Sirius exchanged a look, and Sirius looked appalled.

Having settled on a rather neutral expression, Remus looked at James and just shrugged.

* * *

Not that Remus thought that potions might be susceptible to suggestion, especially as they were not sentient substances; but it did seem rather odd, and just slightly too convenient, that not an hour after James's expressed concern regarding Remus's contagiousness, Sirius would fall similarly, mysteriously ill.

Somewhere between the time Remus started developing a rash, and the time Sirius started dry-retching, Remus decided that his life would be much improved if James fell off the face of the earth, or, at the very least, just shut the hell up and left them alone, permanently.

"I'm so sorry," Peter said, on the way up to the boys' toilets. "I'm so, so, so sorry." He was helping James drag Sirius up the stairs, though the action was rather redundant, as Sirius seemed entirely capable of walking alone-- just not talking, or breathing very well.

Remus prudently kept behind them, and tried not to scratch his arms. They'd become almost painfully itchy, and he didn't really fancy being puked on, as he suspected Sirius might try to do.

"It's not your fault," he said, only somewhat untruthfully.

"I'm really, really sorry," Peter repeated. Remus cringed, and Sirius made an odd sort of choking noise. James thumped him hard on the back.

"It's all right," said James pleasantly. They stopped just outside the toilet, and Sirius straightened. He looked something less than all right.

"Are you going to toss?" James asked him. Peter edged away rather cautiously.

"No," said Sirius. He looked more like he was going to hit James, or Peter, or both, and instead sneezed rather spectacularly. Peter jumped. "I am not going to _toss_," Sirius went on, "but I am going to point out that I really hate you all."

Remus had a sinking feeling he was probably included in that.

* * *

"So," Sirius said brightly at breakfast the next morning, having gone the remainder of the previous day not speaking to anyone, presumably out of sheer spite. Remus had gotten all of no sleep the night before, and he really did not understand how Sirius could be so chipper while sneezing every five seconds and scratching profusely at his arms.

Remus could barely even _breathe_.

"Stop scratching," he said.

Sirius ignored him. "So I'm thinking we're allergic to each other," he said, and, as if to prove his point, threw an arm around Remus's shoulder, knocking Remus's elbow right into his eggs.

"Oh, thank you," Remus said, having missed the point entirely. He resisted the urge to sneeze in Sirius's too-pleased face and instead sneezed into his own sleeve. Though it would have served him right. He knocked Sirius's away from him and began picking egg bits off his robes. "So then why are you so happy to see me?"

"Because," said Sirius, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "I don't expect we'll be seeing much of each other until this is sorted out." Remus blinked at him. "I mean, not that I don't enjoy your scintillating company--"

"Where did you learn words like 'scintillating'?" Remus asked.

"Shut up," Sirius said pleasantly, and sneezed repeatedly. "I think this is getting worse," he added. "I think I have _hives_."

"Are you trying to wipe your nose on me?" Remus asked sharply. Not that he'd never dealt with Sirius's bodily fluids before, but he had to draw the line somewhere. On one side, Remus; the other, Sirius's snot.

Sirius very wisely didn't answer, and instead let Remus finish his breakfast.

* * *

Two days later, Sirius was all but ignoring him, not even looking up when he entered the room. And Sirius certainly wasn't speaking to him. All things considered, such as the fact that he'd still managed to nick and copy Remus's Transfiguration homework, Remus actually found the whole endeavour rather impressive.

If infuriating.

Because speaking to Remus or no, it didn't change the fact that Sirius still traipsed on alongside James, sneezing and scratching, and whingeing about sneezing and scratching, while James tried quite unsuccessfully to ignore him.

Remus, fortunately, had learned to tune out Sirius. That was the key to a good relationship, he thought: learning to ignore your partner.

Not that they were in a relationship. At the moment.

"Is he always this annoying?" asked James, on the way to Potions. It was only day two of Operation Ignore Remus, but it felt more like day seven hundred and fifty-three, or something.

"I don't know," said Remus. "He's your friend."

"Hey--!" Sirius started, and then trailed off. Remembered he wasn't supposed to be acknowledging Remus's existence, apparently. Remus, of course, wasn't entirely sure how this was supposed to work, but thought it must have been that special brand of Black logic that was beyond the comprehension of normal human beings.

No sooner had they gotten into class, than Remus pulled James into the seat next to him before Sirius or, god forbid, Peter could take it. Sirius gave them each a very dirty look as he filed past.

"What an ass," said James, as if he wouldn't have done the exact same thing. "Why do I like him again?"

"I'm sure I have no idea," said Remus absently.

"And why do you like him again?" asked James.

Remus gritted his teeth. "I--"

"Lupin!" screeched Tourmente-- a typical beginning to a Potions lesson. It made Remus's skin crawl, and he was quite sure that she didn't need to yell so loudly at such close range. "Pettigrew!" she went on, closing in on Remus. "Where are your essays?"

"Er," said Remus. Peter was throwing him a panic-stricken look from across the room. "Actually, professor--"

"No?" said Tourmente. "Not done?"

"Well--" Remus started. Instead of finishing his sentence, he sneezed quite damply into his hand. Tourmente looked delighted-- or as close to delighted as she could look, given her facial structure. The class snickered.

"In that case, Lupin, I'll give you until next week," she said, and she actually sounded-- pleased. "And may I suggest antihistamine?"

What a sadist, Remus thought, but aloud, he said, "Thank you, professor." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sirius seize Peter by the back of his robes and give him a jerk. Probably fainting from relief.

"That was lucky," James muttered.

"Seriously," said Remus, and flinched visibly as Tourmente clapped last class's assignment down on his desk. He looked at her, and then at it in disbelief. There was a great red scrawl at the top of the page, but he was quite certain that it couldn't possibly be his mark. Couldn't _possibly_, because it was supposed to be a zero, and it definitely wasn't.

Maybe he'd become illiterate.

"James," he said carefully, sliding his page across the desk, "what's the mark on this paper?"

"Um," said James. He spent a good thirty seconds staring at the page, before he said haltingly, "I don't think there is, one."

"No," said Remus, "there is." And he pointed to it.

James burst out laughing.

Not illiterate after all, Remus decided.

* * *

"You should have seen the look on your face!" James said, afterwards. "Priceless!" Remus made a rude gesture at him, which James ignored.

"Guess what!" he said, when Peter and Sirius emerged from the classroom. "Tourmente gave Remus a _W_ for last class."

"A W?" asked Peter doubtfully. "I thought she was giving us zero--"

"Zero?" Sirius yelped, but a sneeze caught him before he could start laughing.

"Just because you always get perfect," Remus said darkly. Sirius didn't look at him.

"Guess what it stands for," James persisted.

"Worst?" said Peter. Remus grimaced.

"No," said James.

"Wanker?"

"Fitting," Sirius muttered.

"We're talking about me, Sirius," Remus said. "Not you."

"Oh, shut up," said James suddenly. "If you're going to be like that."

"Oh," said Peter.

"Not you," James said, and left them, with Sirius on his heels. Remus glared after them.

* * *

"Get over it, Sirius!" James was yelling, when Remus got back to the dorm. "You aren't making anything better by ignoring him!"

"I'm making myself better," Sirius said angrily. Remus could hear it through the door.

"That's because you get your bloody guilty conscience only when you see him!"

"No," Sirius said tersely, "it's because I want to rip my fucking sinuses out whenever he's around. I--" he sneezed "-- I can't even _breathe_ when he's in the room."

"You think he's doing any better? He's already got-- enough to think about without you not even talking to him."

"He can take care of himself," Sirius said.

There was a long, unnatural silence from within; they must have masked their conversation. Remus rubbed his nose-- it felt raw and over-blown.

Fucking Sirius. He really seemed to think that this was _Remus's_ fault.

The quiet was broken eventually by the sound of the door creaking open, and the violent sneeze Sirius gave when he stepped out.

"Hi," he said finally.

"Hi," said Remus.

"James said, er." Sirius looked uncomfortable, and he was having a hard time looking at Remus. "He said," he said, "you might know how to fix this."

It was a start, anyway.

* * *

"Antihistamine," Remus said. "Antihistamine! Who would have thought?"

"I don't know," said Sirius helpfully, sneezing. They'd been having this conversation for a good five minutes now, getting absolutely nothing accomplished. Sirius was tapping a quill against the tabletop in rhythm, and Remus had half a mind to thump him. The other half was too busy thinking about antihistamine to be of much use.

"I don't know why we didn't think of that before," he said.

"Me neither," said Sirius.

"It's so obvious," said Remus.

"It is," Sirius agreed.

"Yes," said Remus, and paused. The common room was too quiet, for the middle of the afternoon. "The only problem is," he said at last, "what the hell _is_ antihistamine?"

Sirius made a valiant attempt at looking thoughtful, and failed miserably, with his bloodshot eyes. Eventually he said, "I have no idea."

Remus thought perhaps he should take the initiative on this one, but before he could make a fist, Sirius was tipping his chair so he was leaning against the back of one of the couches.

"Evans, my darling," he said. "You wouldn't happen to have a dictionary on you, would you?"

Lily didn't look up. "What?"

"A dictionary," Remus supplied.

"Of what?" Lily asked. Remus was quite sure she wasn't actually listening, the way most prefects were taught to do upon initiation. That was the other reason he was so good at ignoring Sirius.

"Of the English language?" said Sirius.

Lily craned her neck around to look at him suspiciously, and dropped her quill in the middle of the book in her lap. "What do you want it for?"

"You should've let me ask," Remus muttered.

"You'd have never done it," said Sirius, and sneezed rather violently four times in a row.

"Bless you," Lily said, looking rather taken aback.

Sirius stared at her, and then at Remus, and then back at Lily.

"What do you want it for?" she repeated.

Sirius said, "To look things up, of course."

"What kind of _things_?" She'd turned to Remus now, looking slightly less suspicious, but no more welcoming to the interruption.

"Words," Remus supplied, wiping his nose delicately with the back of his wrist. "Definitions and stuff, right?"

"Right," said Sirius.

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Is this actually for something important?"

"Of course it is!" Sirius said. He was scratching at his forearm, which was turning quickly red, and raising pale welts on his skin. Remus looked away when he felt his eyes starting to water.

"And you're not just going to use it to look up dirty words?" Lily said. "Or to deface it?"

"What sort of person do you take me for?" Sirius said, and sneezed sideways. Remus could feel the spray of it against his cheek.

"_Fuck_," he said, wiping his face. That was another thing that could stay on the other side of the line.

"Sorry, there," Sirius said, but he looked more miserable than apologetic.

Lily, however, looked sympathetic. And that was a new one when it came to Sirius.

* * *

"All right," said Remus, as they sat down on the other side of the common room, away from Lily. "Antihistamine," he repeated, and reached for the dictionary.

"Antihistamine," Sirius said stubbornly, and flipped the dictionary open. It was thick and hard backed, with dark blue leather binding and a cracked spine. It said "THE CONCISE OXFORD DICTIONARY" across the front in gold lettering, and had Lily's name on the flyleaf. It didn't look very concise.

"How much d'you think James would give me for this?" Sirius asked. Remus didn't answer. It would only encourage him.

There was long pause, and then Remus said, "Can you even spell antihistamine?" because Sirius had turned to the S section.

"Yes," said Sirius, and turned to the As. "I was just looking up something else." Remus looked at him, but Sirius just snickered into the dictionary.

Remus sneezed another three times while Sirius looked it up, and thought maybe he should start carrying tissue with him.

"Okay," Sirius said finally. "Antihistamine. A substance that counteracts the effects of histamine, especially in the treatment of allergies." He looked up at Remus with bloodshot eyes and said loudly, "_Fuck_," and then, "What the hell is histamine?"

"Well," said Remus, "while we're on the topic," and tapped the little tab with the golden H marking.

Sirius wrinkled his nose. "Right." It took him another moment to find it, and then he said, "Histamine. An amine-- amine? am I saying that right?-- an _amine_, causing contraction of smooth muscle and dilation of capillaries, released by most cells in response to injury, and in allergic and inflammatory reactions." He paused. "Is that how you say capillaries?"

Remus looked at him blankly. "What are capillaries?"

"They're, um." Sirius sneezed. "They're the little veins in your nose or wherever, aren't they?"

"Sure," said Remus.

Sirius glanced up, and tried to grin. "So a histamine is a-- thing. A thing that makes you...allergic. To stuff."

Remus continued to look blank. "Okay."

"So an _anti_histamine," said Sirius, "is the thing that makes you stop being allergic. Right?" Remus didn't answer. "Right," Sirius said for him.

"So it's a kind of potion, then."

"No," said Sirius, and sneezed, "I think it's a Muggle thing, isn't it?"

"But, I mean." Remus stopped. He covered his mouth to sneeze, and he could feel some kind of rash prickling around his chin. That wasn't supposed to happen, he didn't think. And there he'd been thinking it had stopped getting worse.

"I mean," he said eventually, having sneezed sufficiently, "how are we supposed to get some, then?"

* * *

"You don't think she's going to get us in trouble, do you?"

Sirius had been all confidence and sneezes on the way to the infirmary, declaring that there was no way there would be any repercussions for them from this, because it was all Peter's fault in the first place, and it wasn't as if there was really anything one could punish _them_ for-- but of course, as they were actually sitting there waiting to be seen, he'd rather deflated. Direct confrontation with authority figures did that to him.

"I don't know," Remus said. "I would think that getting hives, and feeling like my head's going to explode, and hardly even being able to breathe for all the sneezing would be punishment enough for, uh, whatever it is we did. Which would be nothing--" he punctuated this with a sneeze.

"You make a strong argument," said Sirius, but he went on bouncing his leg nervously, jarring against Remus's thigh every so often. Remus went on pretending it was the allergies that made his throat constrict the way it was doing.

He was cultivating a brilliantly itching rash down the side of his leg when Madam Pomfrey finally joined them. Sirius, who had been babbling about revenge on Peter, in an uncharacteristic subject shift from Snape, abruptly shut up before Pomfrey could find any reason to take House points. Or give detention. Or whatever.

"Right," she said, all the while prodding Remus with her wand. Remus flinched, and as she poked him quite squarely in the ribs, he sneezed loudly. She looked rather taken aback.

"What can I do for you two?" she asked finally, obviously having found that he was not, in fact, on the verge of death, though he did rather feel like it.

"I think I'm allergic to Remus," Sirius said, at the same time as Remus said,

"We're allergic to each other." Remus suddenly wished he hadn't.

Madam Pomfrey said nothing for another very long time, but clicked her tongue and tapped her wand against the heel of her hand. Sirius went on bouncing his leg. Remus went on trying not to scratch his own.

"Antihistamine," she pronounced at last, and Sirius nudged him sharply, as if to say, "didn't I tell you?" Remus rolled his eyes.

* * *

The pills were small and yellow and round, and he and Sirius spent a good twenty minutes back in the dorm room staring at them, itching and watering, before Sirius said, "I'll have a go."

"Me too," said Remus quickly. He didn't think James had stopped laughing at them since they'd returned from the infirmary.

"I can't believe you two gits have never swallowed a bloody pill before," he said.

"Hello," Sirius said rather thickly, on the verge of a sneeze, "I live with you. I think you would know if I had." James looked unconvinced. "I _have_," Sirius insisted.

"Of course you have," James said soothingly, but as soon as Sirius had set the tiny yellow pill on his tongue, he spat it back out into his hand.

"That tastes _awful_."

James flung himself back on his bed, and very patiently looked at the ceiling. Remus waited while Sirius clacked his tongue, presumably trying to get the taste out of his mouth. Remus contemplated his own pill, and the small yellow bottle, with the words "chlorpheniramine" and "for the treatment of allergies" carefully printed on the label. The pill was leaving a kind of powdery yellow residue on his palm. He sneezed.

"All right," Sirius said at last. It looked like the damp pill in his palm had begun to congeal from his saliva, so Remus stopped looking at it before he lost his nerve. "How, precisely," Sirius asked, "would one go about swallowing one of these things?"

"Oh, I see," said James. "Look who comes crawling back."

"Come on," said Sirius. "If not for me, at least for Moony, here." Remus stuffed his fist in his mouth to stop from sneezing and laughing simultaneously.

"That's so selfless of you, Sirius," he said around his hand. "At the same time, I think I can figure this out."

"You need water," James said helpfully. But he was still lying down, and Remus could tell he was laughing at them. Not that Remus could really blame him.

"_I_ knew that," said Sirius archly, but it was kind of obvious he didn't. Remus ignored him, and picked up the glass of water on Sirius's bed stand. It had been sitting there since the night before, and it even smelled stale. He made a face at it, but with some effort did in fact manage to swallow, water and pill and all. It felt like the pill was lodged somewhere between his breastbone and his spine, and scraping away the tissue as it went down. Eventually he managed to say,

"_God_, that's disgusting." Itchy tears were streaming down his cheeks, and this time when he sneezed, Remus sincerely hoped the little antihistamine pill wasn't going to come back out through his nose, or something equally terrible.

Sirius, at least, waited a decent amount of time before saying, "Well, that didn't seem that bad, did it?"

Remus said, "Now _you_ do it."

* * *

But Remus had to admit, it did actually work for a couple of hours, and he didn't sneeze even once. And his eyes had stopped watering and itching, and his skin wasn't red and blotchy, and best of all, he could actually _breathe_. He was beyond relieved. Sirius had disappeared with James as soon as he'd discovered he wasn't sneezing anymore, but Remus wasn't going to let that spoil his fun.

Not much, anyway.

Instead he said, "Peter! You, me-- chess-- now," because there was nothing like wasting a few hours of sorely earned respite. Without Sirius.

* * *

"You and Sirius didn't-- have a fight or something, did you?"

Peter was eyeing the chessboard suspiciously, not even looking at Remus as he said this. Most of his chess pieces were lying in a broken heap by Remus's elbow, and he had always been kind of a sore loser. Remus didn't really blame him.

"No," Remus said.

"Oh," said Peter. "Because--"

In the ensuing silence, during which time it was fairly obvious that Peter had no idea what to say next, Remus said, "Well, we didn't." Though they kind of had.

Peter nodded vigorously. "Right," he said. He inspected the board again; Remus could see at least three moves for him to un-check himself, but he had a hard time believing Peter would think to make any of them. "I just thought--" Peter started again, and stopped.

"No," said Remus again. "We're still--"

"I don't want to know," Peter said quickly. It was the largest grouping of words he'd said at once all afternoon, and Remus tried very hard not to grind his teeth. It wasn't supposed to be good for them. Ruined the enamel, or something.

* * *

"Black; Potter-- _no_!"

Remus looked up unnecessarily. He only knew one person who could enunciate semi-colons, and that was Lily Evans, glaring balefully up at Sirius and James as they made their way not-cautiously-enough across the common room. There wasn't, Remus reflected, anything especially suspicious about them, except for Sirius's extremely guilty expression, and James's apparent inability to look at anyone or anything for more than three seconds at a time, and that wasn't really an indication of anything.

Remus tried to sink into the upholstery, but failed miserably, because Peter said, "What have they--?" Remus swallowed.

"Lupin!" Lily yelled. He stood up, then sat down, and stood up again. He probably wasn't going to get out of dealing with this one, and she seemed unable to decide who she'd rather glare at.

"Your _friends_," she said. Remus could see from across the room that she was gritting her teeth. He considered warning her against it, but then, she probably wasn't in the mood.

"What?" Sirius asked casually.

"Where were you?" Remus asked, trying and failing to match his tone.

"Panty raid," James said, and Remus choked. He clapped a hand over his mouth to hide his expression, because he was absolutely certain he did not want to know.

"_Failed_ panty raid," Sirius corrected. James grinned at the back of his head, then at the floor, then at Lily, then at a couch, chosen at random. But he was very much not looking at Remus. "We did see old Snape, though," Sirius added. He was grinning.

"You _didn't_," Lily interrupted shrilly. She rounded on James, who looked wildly at Sirius. Remus snorted. "What did you do to him, Potter?" Lily said.

James looked suitably offended. "I don't know why you think _I_ did anything, Evans," he said. "A little quick to jump to conclusions, aren't we."

"_Don't_ even," Remus started, but found he didn't have the heart for it. Lily glared at him, and he suspected, once again, that everything was going to become his fault.

"Come on, Moony," Sirius said desperately. "It was only a bit of fun."

"A bit of _fun_?" Remus repeated, incredulous, and James had just started to say,

"We're going to give it back--"

when Remus sneezed very loudly and very suddenly, and Lily said, "Bless you," out of sheer shock. Sirius promptly answered with a sneeze of his own.

"Oh, bugger," he said.

"It's not like we did anything wrong," James went on. "We were just on the way to the, er--"

"Library," Sirius said, sneezing.

"Yes," said James. Lily looked doubtful. "We were on the way to the library when we ran into old Sevvy."

"Snivvy," said Sirius.

"His name is _Severus_!" Lily shrieked. She looked livid. Becoming, thought Remus.

"Yes," James said again, "well. Anyway, _he_ was on the way to the dungeons, and Sirius here, he says, you know what we _should_ do--" He broke off with a yelp as Sirius stepped on his foot.

"Well," Sirius said, and Remus gave him a warning look.

"I don't know," Lily interrupted, "what Snape ever has ever done to either of _you_, but nothing--"

"Nothing," Remus said, for the sake of it.

"_Nothing_," Lily repeated angrily, "justifies outright _stealing_."

"But we didn't _actually_\--" said Sirius.

"But Evans," James cut in, his face the picture of innocence, "how can you say that when you've already stolen my heart?"

Lily stood there a moment, gaping in open-mouthed disgust at James; and then turned on Remus and gave him a filthy look. "_Your friends_," she said, and stormed out of the common room. Remus decided it wasn't even worth the effort to look apologetic.

"Right," he said, when he was sure Lily was out of earshot, dropping his voice to a hiss. "Just so you know, I'm really fucking _sick_ of having to act like your goddamn _mother_, and then having Lily Evans pin the blame on _me_ every time you step out of line."

"We weren't that far out," James protested.

"And anyway," said Sirius, "you're too quiet to be my mother."

Remus's jaw tightened. "Sirius," he said, as scathingly as he could manage with blocked sinuses, "do you ever actually think before you say things, or do you just open your mouth and hope for the best?"

And Sirius did indeed open his mouth, but apparently thought better of it. Instead, he made a vague shrugging sort of gesture.

"You did, didn't you?" Peter asked. He had spent the duration of this exchange looking nervously between Sirius and James, as if their guilt was suddenly and inexplicably going to come and rest on his shoulders.

"We did what?" Sirius asked sharply, and wiped at his nose.

"You had a--" Peter started.

"No," Remus interrupted. "For the last time, we did not have a bloody fight," which wasn't entirely true anymore.

James looked blank. "Who had a fight?"

"No one did," said Remus. "That's my point."

"So then why--"

"I don't know if you'd noticed, Peter," said Remus, "but Sirius and I are _allergic_ to each other. And he's driving me mad with his bloody-- passive-aggressive tendencies, and I don't think you can really blame me for not wanting to be around him."

Sirius sneezed loudly. "Wait," he said. "What?"

"Peter thinks we had a fight," Remus said shortly. "Before now." He looked at Peter, then at Sirius. "And if this is our fight, it wasn't really worth the effort."

Sirius blinked, and sneezed, and sneezed, and sneezed again. "What are you talking about?" he said at last.

"I don't think your _antihistamine_ is working very well," said James. Remus swore.

* * *

Sirius likely would have spent another two days ignoring Remus given half a chance, and since Remus was never one to deny him much of anything, ignore Remus was exactly what Sirius did.

Only this time he was also ignoring James and Peter and anything else that moved or breathed, and had taken to engaging in the latter two activities as seldom as possible, where applicable.

In short, he was having a massive Sirius Black-style sulk.

Typical.

"Impressive," said James. The first sign that Sirius was sulking was the fact that he'd gone an entire lunch hour without looking up from his plate, let alone chuck food at Snape-- or any other Slytherin, for that matter.

"Oh, yeah," said Remus. Impressive in the way James managed to fit through the door every morning, he thought, but nothing worth remarking on.

"He's even not talking to _me_," James went on, as if Sirius wasn't sitting just beside him. "I mean, ignoring you, Remus, that's been done. But _me_."

"Yes," Remus agreed. "That is quite a feat, ignoring you." He went on poking at his potatoes.

"Because, you know." James stopped to swallow his steak and kidney pie before going on. "You're one thing, right, but me. _Me_. I'm his best friend!" He elbowed Sirius sharply, which got no reaction. "You'd think he'd talk to me, at least," he said.

"Oh, yes," said Remus, gritting his potatoes instead.

"I don't get it," said James. "What did _I_ do?"

"Do you know," said Remus, "that it might not be about you at all? Because, not everything is."

"I know, but." James leaned across the table, nearly rising to get closer to Remus. "It's just--"

"Your tie," Remus said blankly. "You're dragging it through your plate."

James held it out of the way. "Fine. Thanks. But-- did something else happen? Like, apart from this allergy thing, I mean."

"No," said Remus. "Just the allergy thing." Which was kind of sad, really, because Remus was sure he didn't deserve this.

* * *

He wasn't sure what the word was for what he felt when he walked into the library, and found Sirius at a table, hunched over an open book and taking notes.

Remus was surprised, maybe. Amazed. Stunned. Flabbergasted. Impressed. Disbelieving. Shocked, and maybe awed. Maybe all of the above.

At any rate, it was something, and it was not good.

But it wasn't just the fact that Sirius was in the library that was the troubling part. It was the fact that not only was he in the library, he also had a book, and he actually appeared to be reading it.

Clearly, this allergy thing had other, more disturbing side effects that Remus hadn't previously discovered, if it could induce Sirius to study.

Remus sat down gingerly, warily, across the table from Sirius. His hair was falling into his eyes, and Remus couldn't see his face, but he could tell Sirius was making his rarely seen concentration face. Probably just as well Remus couldn't see it, too.

"Hi," Remus said finally.

"Hi," Sirius mumbled, and Remus was so startled to hear him speak that he nearly fell out of his chair, with only slight exaggeration. It had been three days-- Thursday-- since Sirius had said a word to any of them. Remus wasn't used to this, this being-spoken-to thing. His nose was starting to feel itchy again.

"Er," he said, rather uncertainly. "What are you doing?"

"Working," said Sirius.

"Ah," said Remus. At least his penchant for stating the obvious hadn't been affected by his three days of silence. "What are you working on?"

When Sirius didn't answer, Remus lifted the front flap of the book, so he could read the cover. "POTIONS FROM A-Z", it proclaimed.

"Ah," Remus repeated, none the more informed.

"It's-- extracurricular," said Sirius.

Remus said nothing. Extracurricular, his ass. Sirius rarely did work that was actually on the curriculum, so what, really, were the chances that he was doing something extracurricular? And _Potions_? Not that Remus was suspicious.

"I'm looking for an antidote," Sirius said finally.

"Really," Remus said, and Sirius looked up at him. His eyes were red and angry, and it was a good thing Remus's sympathetic nature had never extended to Sirius, because he might have actually felt sorry for him.

Remus sneezed.

"Yes, really," Sirius said. "Because I don't know about you, but I don't fancy being allergic to you for the rest of my natural life, or however long this is going to take to wear off."

Remus sneezed again. "Oh," he said.

"It's making me miserable," Sirius added, more quietly. Like a confession.

"Actually," Remus said, and sneezed. "Actually, that's why I'm here too." And there was such an intense look of relief that crossed Sirius's face that Remus had to look away. Maybe Sirius wasn't so cross with him after all.

* * *

Remus came back some time later with a thick, heavy copy of "THE BOOK OF ANTIDOTES", which made him sneeze worse than Sirius did. Going by the size of it, it should have contained at least five antidotes to any given potion, but at the moment, it was creating more problems that it was solving.

Sirius looked up when Remus thumped the book down on the table, and sneezed at the cloud of dust that came up off the cover. He looked doubtful. "I think I already checked that one," he said.

Remus stared at him. "How can you possibly have checked this one?"

Sirius shrugged.

"Look at it!" Remus said. The dust off the cover was still settling.

"Well," Sirius said, "I'm pretty sure I did."

Remus sneezed, and was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "But did you check all of it?"

"Most of it," Sirius said.

"_When_?"

Sirius shrugged again. "I don't know. Yesterday."

"You've been doing this since yesterday?" asked Remus. "And you didn't tell me?"

"No," said Sirius. "I mean, yes, I didn't tell you."

Remus sat down. He thought he felt a headache coming on, which was probably entirely due to Sirius. Sirius went back to his book-- or pretended to. His eyes weren't moving, and he was chewing quite viciously at his lips. The hand holding his quill twitched.

"Why?" Remus asked finally.

"I wanted to--." Sirius broke off. He went on staring impassively at his book. After some time he said, "I wanted to surprise you. So-- so you wouldn't have to deal with this. Or something."

Remus looked blank. "Oh," he said. "Well, you definitely surprised me, anyway." Sirius's head snapped up. "I never thought I'd actually see you in the library," he said, and Sirius scowled at him.

"I'm not stupid, Moony," he said.

Remus looked at him. "I know," he said. "That's the problem."

* * *

"You know," Sirius said, some time later, "I'm starting to think that we're shit out of luck on this one."

Remus looked up blearily. His parchment was cluttered with nearly illegible scribbles, all skirting around the subject of allergy potions, but never quite saying anything helpful. Except for the bloody antihistamine thing, which he wasn't even sure would work. Shame the bottle hadn't come with instructions.

Shame they wouldn't have read them anyway.

"What makes you say that?" Remus asked.

"Apart from the fact that we haven't found anything that looks even remotely useful?" said Sirius. "Oh, nothing."

Remus wiped his nose. "Yeah," he said, "but that doesn't mean we're not going to."

"Yes, it does," Sirius said, and started in on a long string of sneezes. "I was in here all day yesterday," he went on, "and I didn't find anything. _Nothing_. Today, nothing. It's useless."

"Fine," Remus said. "If you don't want to stay, no one's making you."

"It's not that I don't want to," Sirius said sullenly. "There's just no point."

"Fine," Remus said again, and went on reading. It wasn't that he wanted to, either, but more that he had to. There was the essay, after all. And Potions in the morning, and Remus was late enough as it was.

Sirius stood up so fast his chair fell over. "Fine," he said. "I'll see you back in the common room?"

Remus didn't answer. That was the first he'd heard Sirius express any interest in him in nearly a week, and he was damned if he was going to rise to it.

* * *

Sirius was still sitting in the common room, his head propped up against his hand, when Remus got there. It was well past midnight, with the common room nearly deserted, and Remus couldn't think of a single good reason why Sirius would still be sitting there.

"What are you doing up?" he asked.

Sirius jerked straight, startled. His eyes seemed a little unfocussed and bleary, and he seemed to be having a hard time staying awake.

"Oh. Er. I was waiting for you," he said.

"Why?"

That was so Sirius, Remus thought. So Sirius, to ditch him in the library and then sit around doing nothing, sulking, and then waiting up so he could give Remus a hard time. Remus was not going in for it.

"Because," Sirius said, as if it were a proper answer.

"Oh," said Remus. "I see." And walked right past Sirius, even as Sirius scrambled to stand up, and Remus let him tail him all the way up to the dorm. But he didn't turn around, even when Sirius tried to catch his hand.

* * *

In the dark, Remus could see the vague outline of Sirius sitting on the edge of his bed, across the aisle from Remus. There were tissues-- used, mostly-- cluttering the space between their beds, and they must have been covering the new box, because Remus couldn't find it.

He sniffed loudly.

"Remus," Sirius said.

Remus sniffed again, and put a hand over his eyes. He'd taken more antihistamine, and he was beginning to feel it, the pressure building up behind his eyelids. He kind of really wanted to sleep, and he was kind of really sure Sirius wasn't going to let him.

"Remus," Sirius said again.

Remus rolled over, his back to Sirius. "What?"

"Are you awake?"

Remus groaned. "What do you think?"

Sirius's voice sounded almost hesitant in the dark. "Are you still angry with me?" he asked.

"Yes," said Remus, and then: "I thought it was the other way around."

"Oh," said Sirius.

Remus uncovered his eyes. The room seemed much brighter than it had when he closed them. "Did you take any antihistamine?" he asked.

"Yes," said Sirius, sullenly. "Not that it makes any difference."

"Actually," Remus started. He closed his eyes again, against the sight of Sirius swinging his feet absently off the end of his bed. "I was in the library," he said.

"I know," Sirius said. Of course he did.

"Antihistamine," Remus said. "If you keep taking it, it's supposed to work." There was a pause, and he could hear Peter's breathing, and James snuffling vaguely at his pillow. "How much do you have left?" he asked.

Sirius took his time before saying, "None."

"Me either," said Remus, and held his breath.

Sirius didn't say anything else.

* * *

The room was impossibly bright in the morning, and Remus woke to the sound of Sirius falling out of bed with a thump and a yelped, "hello!"

"What?" James asked immediately. Remus opened his eyes, rubbing them against the glare of the room. Sirius had somehow managed to clamber up onto James's bed in the amount of time it took Remus's vision to focus.

It couldn't have been later than six o'clock. Remus rolled over and groaned unappreciatively. Trust Sirius to keep him up late and then wake him up early. Sirius was like clockwork in his ability to irritate Remus, and likely everyone else, too.

"I can _breathe_," Sirius said, in an awed kind of voice.

"Congratulations," said James. "Now get off my shins before you break them." He sounded unimpressed.

"No, really," Sirius said. The springs of James's bed creaked as Sirius shifted his weight around. "No allergies or anything!" His head whipped around. "Moony!" he said suddenly, and just as quickly fell off James's bed.

Remus sat up.

"That's me," he said dully. He wasn't fancying the prospect of having his shins broken, too, along with James's, because then who would drag them off to the infirmary? He rubbed his nose, and then discovered that he didn't need to.

"How're you?" Sirius asked. He had managed to recover himself, and crawled up next to Remus, leaving a safe distance between himself and Remus's shins. Nevertheless, Remus had half a mind to push him out again.

"Excellent," he said instead, because surprisingly, he was, no thanks to Sirius.

"Excellent," Sirius repeated, almost breathlessly, and before Remus could say anything else, Sirius's lips were pressed against his. Remus took in a sharp breath against Sirius's mouth, and found he'd actually missed him.

After all, stranger things had happened.


End file.
